No One Mourns the Wicked
by JadedEpiphany
Summary: Her skin is as pale as the most exotic porcelain, lips like the innards of the lushest rose, hair like a moonless night sky, and eyes as black as her name. She is Bellatrix and this is the wicked life she chose. Rating will eventually increase
1. Suffer the Children

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter series. All that credit goes to the lovely J.K. Rowling**

**A/N: Hello all and thanks so much for clicking onto this story. You are in for a wild ride let me tell you. So, I've always been attracted to Bellatrix's character, in the books and the movies alike. I mean Helena Bonham Carter totally _slayed _that role, didn't she? And so in a tribute to Bellatrix - even though her soul was black as black and she was utterly insane - I've decided to write this story. It's multi-chaptered and takes place during the First Wizarding War. This is going to span her childhood up to her imprisonment in Azkaban. So if you're up for the journey, strap on your helmet and let's get this Ducati into gear shall we? Cause let's face it, if Bella was a vehicle, a motorcycle she'd definitely be!**

**Updates will occur weekly...enjoy! Oh, and if you would so kind as to drop a line or two (or more) letting me know what you think, critiques, questions, etc that would be AMAZING!**

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**Suffer the Children**

She would not cry. No, she would not. Despite the throbbing thud of her heart, pounding so hard in her chest it was making her body tremble, despite the adrenaline induced clamminess that had befallen her perfectly pale skin. She would not cry.

"Look at me girl," her father ordered, his booming baritone tight with undiluted rage, "Look at me girl, when I am talking to you!"

But she could not look at him because if she did, her eyes would meet those of a monster. Verily, it seemed that her father's eyes could change color when his hellish wrath clouded the dark irises that were identical to her own; dark eyes gone black as his name that could make Salazar himself quake with fear and reach futilely for his wand. No, she could not look at him because if she did, she _would_ cry. And beg for his nonexistent mercy.

And _that_ would be much worse than the imminent punishment.

So she kept her gaze trained on the black brocade wall directly behind him and the flames of the candles in their brass holders that flickered with an almost hypnotic sway, her chin raised proudly, her squared jaw clenched to combat teeth that ached to chatter.

Her defiance only added to her father's ire and the first strike to her face was enough to make her stumble. But she did not fall. And she did not allow the whimper that had rose in her throat to breach her lips. She would not give him the satisfaction.

He hit her again. With the back of his hand. The hard edge of the large emerald ring that adorned his middle finger striking the corner of her mouth, tearing the thin skin. A sharp metallic taste peppered her tongue and the small pink muscle instinctively darted out to catch the crimson drops that welled up.

The flames continued to dance on their wicks.

He gripped her hair in a tight fist, pulling violently on the untamed curls. She allowed her body to go limp as he yanked her towards him, her eyes watering against the sharp pain at her scalp. A hairsbreadth of distance separated them. So close was she to her father that she could see the dark shadow of whiskers on his chin, so close that she could see the light film of whiteness that had gathered in the corners of his thin gash of a mouth, so close that she could smell the slight odor of Firewhiskey on his breath.

Her stomach rolled.

"You will obey me. I am the master of this house. I am your father."

Each statement was accompanied with a rough shake, the hand in her curls tightening to the point where she was sure that upon her release, several of the raven colored tresses would be torn from her person. She wanted to scream. Her eyes burned with the effort of holding back her tears. But she did not. She bit down on the fleshy innards of her cheeks hard enough to bruise the flesh. More of the metallic taste filled her mouth. She bit harder.

"You will not disgrace this family. You are nothing without _my _name, do you understand? _Nothing_." Droplets of acrid spittle sullied her face as he barked out the venomous words, "Daughters are frightfully dispensable, Bellatrix. Defy me again and I _will _kill you where you stand."

Her gaze lifted then, her hard onyx eyes colliding with his and a sudden epiphany struck her like a clap of thunder. They were _her_ eyes, staring back at her ruthlessly unwavering. And she could see it within the depths just as clearly as if she had been looking into a mirror. The resentment. The contempt. The scorn. The bloodlust. It was all there. Staring back at her, reflecting what she herself felt in that very moment.

"Yes father." The words were all but wrenched from her throat, tight and hoarse, her voice pitched high and childlike. But the look in her eyes was anything but.

He dropped her as if she had burned him and she fell to her knees. The echo of Cygnus Black's footfalls seemed to reverberate around the room and she could almost _feel_ the crack of the door as it was slammed shut.

She was alone.

Her fingers curved, her nails digging harshly into the cold stone yet she ignored the pain even as crimson beads welled under her nail beds.

It would not be the last time the pale of her hands bore the stain of blood.


	2. Tangled Web

**A/N: Many thanks for the those who've read and reviewed and followed and favorited. You guys are friggin' awesome. And to my newer readers, welcome. As stated before in the first note, this story is going to span key moments in Bellatrix's life during the First Wizarding War, from moments in her childhood right up to her imprisonment in Azkaban. Reviews are most welcome as they give me life. **

**whitetiger91 \- Yes! Cygnus is a scary kind of man. It was important that that particular emotion be gotten from him. And oh, yeah, I love me some Bellatrix and even though she did go 'coo-coo bananas' in your words, there are many things about her that ARE admirable and it's my hope that this story can bring her inner humanity to light, because let's be very serious, people aren't just born wicked, are they?**

**nymphxdora \- Wicked gives me life and the title was just so fitting. Thank you, that really means a lot as it's the first line in a story for me that makes or breaks a story for me! Also, your praise on the description of Cygnus and Bella's eyes really brought a smile to my face as I feel that that was the key point that I wanted to express in the chapter. Thanks for the CC, just a trick of the words I think but I see what you mean.**

**Lamia of the Dark \- Thank you so much and yes, this is how I see Cygnus too. I mean, think about how Lucius Malfoy was portrayed in the second, third, fourth, and fifth movies? Now Cygnus I imagine to be a thousand times worse than that. In that chapter, Bella's about 10-14, of Hogwarts age. **

**ArtOholic \- Thank you so much! Man, if you even knew how much trouble that summary gave me for something so succinct, you would laugh. I'm so glad you liked it. Thanks so much for the CC as well, it makes us all better writers in the end so bring it on. Gah, you don't know how happy you made me with your praise on those quotes, thanks so much!**

**alyssialui \- Bellatrix gives me life. I don't know what it is about me but I'm always loving me these female villains. There's so much mystique to them. And Helena Bonham Carter is a goddess. At the end of the day, for all her insane and evil ways, Bella is still human and I wanted that conveyed in the chapter. Yes, she was terrified but it was her defiance that kept her from showing her attacker how scared she was. And I'm so glad you picked up on this! **

**vanilla smiles \- I can see how it could be thought that Cygnus and his daughters would be close but to me, I didn't quite see it that way. As far as learning her wicked ways, I would imagine that to mostly have been developed and honed by Voldemort and the Death Eaters rather than her father but it is an interesting thing to think about, isn't it? Thank you so much for her review and we will definitely see her spiraling into darkness as well as depth of character as that is what I hope to portray, stay tuned!**

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**Tangled Web**

Bellatrix knew the emotion of hatred quite well. It was the emotion that overtook her whenever she thought of her father; the intense feeling surging through her like a cresting wave before it broke against the shore. She had hated him for as long as she could remember. So she knew the feeling that she was experiencing in that moment was not exactly hatred.

It was hard to put a finger on though. And at seventeen years of age, it was well past the time for someone to have a basic grasp on how they felt.

Was it disgust? No. Not quite. Disgust was reserved for filthy Muggles and their miraculously magical spawn that infected the Wizarding World like an incurable strain of a heinous virus. She was not really _disgusted. _Was it sadness then? No, she could not remember the last time she had felt _sad_ about anything. It was such a pathetically infantile emotion that did little to change the circumstances from which it had been borne. There was absolutely no use for _sadness _in life.

So no. It was not hatred, not disgust, not sadness. It wasn't even _one _but a maelstrom of emotions raging within her, swirling about in her head like a torrential storm, and succeeding only in confounding her because she could not pick apart the emotions. It was like trying to contain smoke within the cup of her fingers.

There _was_ anger though. Like hatred, she knew it well and it was evident in the way her fists where clenched, the sharp edges of her nails cutting into the flesh of her palms. She had grown numb to the pain but the feel of the blood seeping from the half moon shaped wounds gave her something to focus on besides the scene that kept replaying itself in her mind's eye.

It was all frightfully dramatic, the scene she had come upon when she walked into Andromeda's room to assess the damage their father had done to her and saw instead the middle Black sister haphazardly throwing things into her Hogwarts trunk, sobbing hysterically as she did so. Andromeda whirled around with a gasp, wand raised in a trembling hand upon hearing the door creak open.

Bellatrix had chuckled throatily, not even batting a lash at the sudden threat to her well being. "You'll want to careful with that Andy."

It was then that she could see the angry reddish purple bruise that marred Andromeda's pale cheek in the soft light of the candles and her lips curled up in a hateful sneer. "He did that didn't he?"

Andromed lowered her wand slowly and jerked her head in a nod before resuming the packing of her trunk.

"The vile and loathsome _prick_. I _hate _him and Mother. I hate this house. I hate this family. It's all stupid can't you sodding see it? The parties, the pretences, the family name, the family honor, _Toujours _Pur, all of it. It's all a load of shit Bella."

The raven haired girl merely arched an eyebrow at the hysterical display but within her petite frame there was a quiet storm raging. "You know, I've never heard you swear so much," she uttered drolly, crossing the room to perch at the end of the four poster bed, "But packing for school a month before term starts isn't going to help matters."

I can't stay here Bella," the words were tearful and strained but deathly serious, "I just can't live like this anymore."

Despite the feel of her heart seizing in her chest and the prickle of gooseflesh breaking out along her perfect skin, Bellatrix gave no outward evidence that her sister's words had had any effect on her. "What are you saying Andromeda?" she responded on a dry murmur, "That you're leaving?"

Andromeda's tears fell then, and Bellatrix looked away.

"You don't get it Bella. You're of age! You're gonna happily marry some rich Pureblood heir. Cissy too. That's what you two _want. _Me? I don't want it. That's not who I am. And I'm tired of pretending it is. I'm tired of getting the shit beaten out of me if I so much as sneeze improperly in Father's direction. I'm tired of starving myself to fit into _stupid_ corset gowns, stuffing my feet into shoes two sizes too small. I'm _sick_ of parading through Hogwarts as if I own the bloody place, having first years scared to death of me because they think I'll hex them if they look at me funny. I can't do it anymore Bella. I can't!"

Bellatrix was silent throughout the entire tirade, and upon receiving no feedback, Andromeda just sobbed bitterly, throwing clothes, books, shoes, and other knickknacks over her shoulder into the trunk.

There came a soft knock at the door. Bella pulled her wand from the inside pocket of her robes and pointed it at the crystal and bronze knob, silently unlocking it. Narcissa stepped gingerly into the room, her cornflower blue gaze tight with worry.

"I heard shouting," she whispered, "What's happened?"

"Say goodbye to Andy, Cissy," Bellatrix muttered at last, beckoning to her youngest sister with a finger, "She's leaving us."

"Andy you _can't_," the fourteen year old all but shrieked, "Where would you go?"

"Ted Tonks said I could stay with his family as long as I need," Andromeda said stiffly, pointedly avoiding both of her sister's gazes as she retrieved her broomstick from under the bed, "We've been dating since Easter."

A sharp cackle burst from the confines of Bellatrix's throat at the same moment Narcissa gasped loudly.

"Figures," the raven haired witch snorted scathingly, "Mudbloods always did have the habit of _poisoning _the well."

"Good Merlin Bella, you sound just _like _our dear Father," Andromeda shot back.

"B-but Andy," Narcissa looked and sounded as if she might very well faint as she shook her head, her platinum blonde tresses slipping over her narrow shoulders, "He _is _a Mudblood."

"And _that's _why," the middle sister yelled, slamming her trunk shut with a growl," That's why I can't stay here. You two are sodding _puppets!_ I refuse to be one. Good luck in life. You'll both need it."

"Oh no," Bellatrix purred, her onyx eyes narrowing into tiny slits as an unexplainable feeling came over her, filling her veins with ice, "We don't _need _your luck Andromeda. We don't _need_ well wishes from a cowardly Muggle loving _slut_ like you."

"_Bella_," Narcissa gasped on a strained whisper, her eyes wide, hand fluttering at the base of her throat. But she was ignored by both sisters.

"I _am _leaving," Andromeda spat, each word sharp and acidic, her dark brows knit tightly above soft honey brown eyes, "And I am _never_ coming back."

A cruel smile tugged at the corner's of Bellatrix's lips though her eyes remained void of emotion. "Then _go."_

They were the last words she had spoken to her most beloved sister.

And now here it was and as she desperately tried to pick through the tangled web of emotions within her, it became quite clear what she was feeling. The thought of Andromeda sneaking out of the house through the House Elves quarters, walking with surety in her gait off of the grounds of Black Manor. Cissy curled in her bed, sobbing herself to sleep. The sticky strands were becoming as transparent as gossamer threads glistening with dew drops of venom.

Guilt. Betrayal. Envy.


	3. Now and Ever Shall Be

**A/N: Again, thanks so much for the reviews, the favorites, and the follows. I'm so pleased you all are enjoying this piece and your words of praise and constructive criticism it all means the world. Here is the third installment of No One Mourns the Wicked. Reviews are most welcome!**

**Elizabeth Blossom**** \- Thank you so much for the feedback and you are right about Bella's feelings. Andromeda's actions disgusted her but as always she can hide feelings by masking them with anger (or craziness).**

**Jemennuie**** \- Thank you! I always imagined Bella to have trouble being able to decide what exactly she is feeling at a specific moment in time when she feels something is out of her control. She is someone who craves control and when faced with a situation when she doesn't have it, I imagine it's very detrimental for her. And yes, same with me. I always imagined Andromeda being fed up with the Pureblood lifestyle more than just solely running away to be with Ted. **

**alyssialui \- Oh this means a lot coming from you because I do love your Bellatrix stories! Yes, I certainly do feel like Bellatrix would envy Andromeda in a way for breaking free and having the strength to do something she herself longs to do, however, I also think it's easier for her to insult her sister and consider her cowardly as Bella feels she had exerted so much inner strength when dealing with everything that comes from being a daughter of the Noble House of Black. Her guiltiness would come from lying about how she really felt and the betrayal would come from her feeling as if Andromeda has turned her back on her when she left.**

**nymphxdora \- Thank you so much for your praise! I have to admit that my favorite part of this story is really delving into the mind of Bellatrix. It's like an onion with so many layers because I know that beneath all she gives on the outside, she is still human on the inside.**

**ChatterChick**** \- Thank you so much! The reason why I opted not to make it a big knock out drag down is because I imagine it would not have been realistic and would have aroused the whole house and I imagine Andromeda sneaking out rather than making a huge dramatic exit.**

**CanYouHeartheSirens -**** Thank you so much! So glad that you are enjoying this so far.**

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**Now and Ever Shall Be**

Rodolphus Lestrange was everything a well brought up Pureblood heir should be. He was handsome and of coldly stoic demeanor. Upon coming of age, he had inherited a vast fortune and held fast to his family's purist beliefs. He had been a Slytherin prefect and now held an esteemed position within the Ministry of Magic.

And Bellatrix was to be his bride.

She supposed this should be the happiest day of her life. It was everything that she had been bred for; everything that she should have hoped for. She would finally be free of her tyrannical father and impuissant mother. She would be the mistress of her own home. She would be the prized trophy wife and bear Rodolphus a passel of Pureblood heirs to carry on his family name.

How lovely it all was.

How dearly she wanted to rip every strand of hair from her head until blood dripped from her scalp.

"How _lucky _you are Bella," Narcissa had gushed brightly, gone nearly Slytherin green with envy as she helped to lace her sister's corset, "And you look _so _beautiful."

"Don't be a damned fool," Bellatrix spat hotly, visibly fighting the urge to snatch herself away from the assisting fingers, "I look _wretched_ in white."

If the younger witch had detected any negativity in the elder's tone, it was pointedly ignored and answered with an airy chortle and gratingly high pitched, winsome words.

"Don't be ridiculous. Nothing else would be quite as _appropriate _now, would it?"

"Just lace me tighter," Bellatrix bit out through clenched teeth, exhaling harshly through her nose.

"Bella, you won't be able to breathe."

But she did not _want _to breathe. That was the point. Perhaps then some blessedly divine power would take pity on her and she would pass out due to lack of oxygen. Better still, she might even suffocate under the strain. The bite of the corset's steel boning digging into her flesh was almost a relief. There would be bruises once the garment was removed. And she did not give even an ounce of a damn.

When she was thankfully left alone to gather her thoughts before it was time to descend into the ballroom, she found her onyx gaze trained on the large French window, her mind absently wondering if she could cast an Arresto Momentum in time if she decided to jump. Or if she could be traced should she decide to Apparate away. She had always had a fondness for Paris.

But no. That was something Andromeda would have done. That was the coward's way out. True, the Sorting Hat had not placed her in Gryffindor, but Bellatrix Black was no coward. It had never been in her nature.

So she straightened her spine, turning away from the window with a huff and took in the image of herself reflected in the looking glass of her vanity. Kohl rimmed eyes, cold and uncompromising glared back at her, roving over the smooth porcelain white of her face, neck, décolletage, and the creamy mounds of her cleavage that was on full display as a result of the tightened corset. She had vehemently declined to have her faced heavily made up, refusing to look like a sodding harlequin. Aside from the kohl and mascara to her eyes, her lips were lined and painted blood red. She would have preferred to have her curls wild and untamed, in their natural disarray, but Narcissa had begged to do something else with them, something more elegant and befitting of a bride to be. And she had relented because it was _Narcissa_ and Cissy had always had the habit of getting the things that she wanted with very little effort on her part that included but was not limited to threatening to swoon, shortness of breath, and a tear or two.

It was a shame she had not wanted Rodolphus Lestrange.

The ceremony passed in a blur.

"Do you Bellatrix Druella Black take this wizard to be your wedded husband…?" There was more that followed the question that she had purposely tuned out. She did not want to think about honoring and obeying, did not want to consider sickness, health, richer, poorer, nor cherishing anyone until they were separated by death.

"I do."

It was in that instant she knew that with those two words her life had been irrevocably altered.

She was now Bellatrix Lestrange. Now and forever.

The kiss that concluded the ceremony was stiff and awkward and was responded to with polite claps and light laughter.

Bellatrix could not decide if she wanted to reach for her wand and set fire to the room or vomit.

The reception too was a sickening affair that further exacerbated her indecision. The cool feel of her champagne flute that was constantly refilled and more than quite a few times had its contents spiked with Firewhiskey _did_ help her combat the insane desire to claw out the eyes of the endless sea of people that offered her congratulations and well wishes from beneath hideously saccharine smiles though.

The food was tasteless, the music almost as grating as one's nails being dragged down a blackboard, and after a while, the Firewhiskey laced champagne lost its appeal and before long, the celebration was over and it was time for the newly wedded couple to Apparate to their new home, Lestrange Manor.

To consummate their nuptials.

With a sharp crack they appeared at the foot of a large ebony four poster adorned in forest green and silver drapes. Candles in ornate silver holders on each side of the bed bathed the room in a dim orange light. With a flick of a wand in the direction of the large fireplace, a fire roared to life and the room was lit even more.

"I do hope you find the furnishings to your taste," Rodolphus said tightly, "Tomorrow you can tour the manor and the grounds and see what you would like to alter. With my mother's death following the birth of Rabastan, the manor has not really known a witch's touch."

"Roddy let's give up this little charade, shall we?" Bellatrix drawled, the heat of the alcohol swirling in her belly giving her the most delicious sense of detachment as she perched at the edge of the bed, "No one's watching now."

Rodolphus' lips curled up in an amused smirk as he eyed his new wife. She had always been so different from the other Pureblood girls. She had never been the delicate or demure type. She was bold and brash, reckless and rebellious. She could not care less for balls and dinner parties, could not care less for the latest fashions, did not give an ounce of a damn for pleasantries. He had loved her at first sight. His dark beauty.

To hell with the fact that her feelings had never been mutual.

And never would.

She was _his _now. And that was all that mattered.

"If you're going to fuck me, do so now and get it over with," Bellatrix boldly stated, reaching behind her back to untie the corset strings.

Her head was heavy as a result of the drinks, eyes lowered at half mast as she watched her _husband_ flutter towards her like a moth to a flame, barely able to hide his desire. And like the moth, he seemed blissfully oblivious to the deadly lure that was Bellatrix. She deftly undid the clasp of the clip that had held her hair in an elegant chignon for the ceremony, watching with a grim sort of glee as Rodolphus' eyes widened at the sight of her sea of jet black curls tumbling over her shoulders, giving her a wild and carnal look.

She licked her lips.

And let herself go numb.


End file.
